Chapter 7: Survivors of War
There has always been a certain order to this world, one of the most basic would be the fact that some creatures must kill and feed on others. It's one of nature's most terrifying and difficult lessons and this can be observed by the fact that the unfortunate ones who are not strong enough must become the victim and therefore suffer for their weaknesses.
The Eathans, however, always believed that they themselves has already elevated above these petty matters, not because they disrespect nature and her rules and laws, but the fact that there simply isn't a mortal creature on this planet that could challenge their might.
This would be an Eathan's most basic knowledge and wisdom, for he or she who does not live by this rule won't live at all.
And Angel could feel the weight of all these teachings bearing down on her before she even woke up. When she did emerge from her sleep, however, the world she now suddenly sees is not something that she was expecting.
Instead of rough brick walls and blood soaked ground, she saw a magnificent room worthy of kings. All around her were beautifully crafted ornaments, elegantly woven silk curtains, floor tiles made of exotic materials and paintings on every wall, even the ceiling was covered in a master piece drawn by an unknown artist whose very soul seemed be present above her head. But the one part of the room that caught her attention the most made all these luxuries seem like disposable items, for directly in front of the soft and comforting bed she laid upon was a massive opening to a balcony, and beyond that lies a forest teeming with life. Birds and animals that she has never before seen climbed and flew and got on with their lives, rejoicing in the natural wonders that grew around them, and directly above this forest, was a sky of clear blue with the healthy bright glow of the sun that almost brought tears to her eyes.
It was like heaven, or at least the closest thing to it she has ever witnessed.
"Where am I?" She whispered to herself. For a while she couldn't tell whether she's woken up at all, or this was some fantasyland she was dreaming up in her mind.
With considerable effort, she heaved herself up into a sitting position on to the bed which seemed to be made of marshmallow and felt the soft silk cover rubbing gently against her bare skin, and at that moment, she could swear that she would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life here.
Which, ironically, was exactly what Darkness was hoping for.
As the doctors and surgeons moved away from their patient and began to remove the make shift gloves and masks which they wore, they uttered quiet and nervous words as they watched Atto Emes heaving himself off the operation table. Every single one of them knew the extent of the damage and how much danger this child would be for the next few days, and until his wounds become fully stable they must not leave his side. Which considering their current position, this wasn't the easiest part of their jobs.
"Please," One of them hushed at Atto and rushed to his side, "You must not strain yourself in any way, any excess use of your chest muscles in the next few days could undo everything we've just done, and that would be fatal."
Whether or not his patient understood or even heard any of that was unsure to him, but it became quite clear that whichever meanings were taken, the boy did not care.
"You have others to tend to," Atto whispered without looking at any of them, "Leave me be."
Without needing to be asked twice, the doctors rushed to the man laying next to the table and picked him up in a rather brutal fashion and dumped him on, all the while rushing to prepare for the this next operation, one more to add to the gruesome amount they had to tend to this day.
Away from the half dead man, Atto began to scan the rest of room, which suddenly appeared to be a massive bunker with groaning and crying people laying on simple and make shift beddings, one next the other as if they were no more than cargo onboard a ship. Due to the way each man, women, and child were laid out, Atto guessed that there must be at least three hundred people in this part of the bunker alone.
The space between these packed up people were hardly big enough for one to walk through, nevertheless Atto began his small journey across the seemingly endless ocean of wounded and weary in an attempt to locate an empty space for himself, which from the look of things, will take longer than he thought. Among the people resting, sleeping, dying on their spaces, only a few of them appeared to be unharmed. All the others had received an injury in some way. The ones that he saw consisted of a mixture of broken limbs, some of which were missing completely, smashed in body parts including heads, badly burnt out body mass with barely recognisable faces, and a few who were laying in a pool of their own blood, clearly long dead before the small band of doctors even got anywhere close to treating them.
Atto looked away from their tortured faces and thought about his own problems, even now he could feel his organs turning inside out and back the other way, the part of his chest that was smashed in by the mace seemed to be tearing apart, and his blood slowly flowing away from his body.
This is not life, he told the part of himself that was still conscious, this is suffering.
After several minutes of trundling among people who looked worse than the ones before them, he finally came to a stop in front of a empty space carpeted by a layer of torn cloths and random bits and pieces of material ranging from ruined bedding to the clothes of the deceased. Signing heavily, he got down to his knees and slowly, with pain flashing once again through his chest, got down to his back and tried to relax and ignore the screams and cries that shook the very foundations of the bunker.
A few meters away, he heard the voices of two young children chatting in the background, one of which clearly had some kind injury to his throat.
"Mum told me that this is our home now," The boy muttered miserably, more to himself than to his injured companion, "I don't know why, maybe the land lord finally decided to do something about all that dept we owed."
From the corner of his eyes, Atto saw the child's companion place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and began to speak in a hoarse and struggled voice that sounded painful and blood filled with every word.
"Don't…be…sad…" He coughed with each syllable, a few droplets of blood sprayed from his mouth, "I lost….my home…and…friends…too…"
Tears began to emerge in Atto's eyes as he continued to listen to the children's conversation.
"There's so many people, none of them moving, are they going to be alright?"
"Of…course…"
"But my daddy stopped moving yesterday, and they took him away. I've waited all day for his return," The child paused at the memory and looked down at the bug-infested ground, "but he did not come."
His companion spoke again, this time though the sentence was broken into harsh words and with each one his voice sounded fainter and more difficult to make out.
"Parents…gone…no one…but me…miss…them…I…" He never finished his sentence before dropping to his side and coughing none stop.
As the boy frantically yelled for help, Atto saw blood dripping from his companion's slit throat, and knew instantly that the kid was going to die soon the moment he received that injury, just like the countless others that lied around him.
Closing his eyes and forcing the image out of his mind, he remembered something else, a face, a face he has known so well, being taken away from him. But before he could fully recreate the image, he drifted into a haunted sleep where he was reminded of a simple fact.
He could die here and no one would even take notice…